“This is Captain Reynolds,” James said, introducing Viola to a tanned man with a thick Mediterranean accent.
“It’s a pleasure, miss,” Reynolds said, and then he disappeared so he could ready the ship. Martin then led Viola to the deck, where a woman in a crisp white uniform, identical to the rest of the crew, stood waiting by two chairs. Beside her was chilled champagne and a platter of hors devours.
“Welcome, Mr. Alven,” the woman said.
“Thank you, Cindy,” Martin said. “This is Viola Turner.”
“Miss Turner.”
Viola found it strange that Cindy was calling her miss. She was just a waitress, more like Cindy the blonde bimbo than Martin, the billionaire. Cindy couldn't hide her shapely figure under the uniform, and Viola had a feeling that most trips on the boat, trips without a woman present, Cindy would be wearing something different. A bikini perhaps? Nothing?
They drank champagne and munched on things Viola couldn’t even pronounce as the massive yacht left the harbor and headed out to see. It was strange, when Viola thought about it, that she was going out on a boat with a man she didn't even know, but she figured there were enough members of the yacht’s crew milling around that she wouldn’t be murdered. In all, there seemed to be four people besides them, the captain, Cindy, and two young men who were barked at by the captain and rushed around the yacht doing various sea things that Viola didn’t understand.
“What do you do, Viola?” Martin asked her.
“I’m a waitress.”
“Oh? In the city?”
Viola nodded. “Vine.”
“I’ve heard good things,” Martin said. “Never been, though, believe it or not.”
“People seem to love it,” Viola said with a soft shrug of her shoulders. The Sun was hanging high in the air when they eventually stopped, so far from land it was nothing more than a gray line on the horizon, and a ladder was let down.
“Up for a swim before dinner?” Martin asked.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” Viola said.
“Cindy, take her into the cabin to find a suit, will you?” Martin said, and Viola was swept away with the blonde woman with her big fake tits. Soon Viola was outfitted in a white bikini, and then she and Marti were diving off of the boat and into the chilly sea.
They swam for an hour. Then Cindy called them for dinner, so they swam back and climbed up to the boat on a silver ladder.
Dinner was delicious, and it was full of expensive and exotic foods that Viola had never had. When they were done, Cindy cleared the plates away, and Martin and Viola sat at the back of the deck and watched the Sun go down, behind the gray line that was land. They went back in the dark.
When they docked again, Martin told the crew they were done for the night, but he held Viola back.
“Want to come have some coffee in the cabin?” he asked, and Viola grinned. She knew they wouldn’t be having any coffee, and she was somewhat surprised to know she was okay with that.
She took control when they were in the cabin. It was wide and open, with a bed and a small kitchen area. Martin went towards the kitchen, but the young woman caught him by the arm and stopped him. He turned to speak with her, but she was there, still wearing the damp bikini, her nipples already hard, a burning desire in between her legs. She pushed against him and then they were kissing.
When she felt him grow hard against her hip, she dropped to her knees and pulled his swimming trunks down. He sprang out, his cock bobbing in the air as the boat rolled softly on the waves. He was longer than James but thinner, and Viola took him into her mouth eagerly.
Where James was forceful, practically fucking her mouth, Martin was respectful and gentle. His hand went to her hair, his fingers running through it. Her lips were wet, and they slid sensually down his shaft, and then back up. She took him out of her mouth and used her tongue to tease him, running it along his tip, and then down the sensitive underside of his cock.
She gripped his balls lightly in one hand, massaging them as she took him into her mouth once more, and then, when she felt his pleasure was at a maximum, she stopped sucking his cock and stood up.
“Fuck me,” she said, and Martin obliged. They went to the bed, and he fell upon her. His kisses were gentle, almost tentative, and it turned Viola on. She was the one taking charge, and that wasn’t something she was used to. For all his money, and his cockiness in the beginning, Martin seemed a bit unsure of himself. She wondered if it was because, like James, he had never been with a black woman before.
Her top came off, flung to the floor next to the bed, and then Martin was sucking on one of her brown nipples. It made her wet, and she was yearning for the man’s impressively long cock, so she pushed him to the side, onto his back, and then climbed atop him. He was nude, his shorts left by the door where she had sucked his cock, and she slid her bathing suit bottoms down and kicked them over to the top. With one hand she held his rigid member as she guided herself onto it.